


snowflakes & gardenias (sorrry for wrecking your shit)

by ferne



Category: The Arcana (Visual Novel)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Flower Shop, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Asra owns a family flower shop, Faust is an adorable snake, Gender-Neutral Apprentice (The Arcana), He is a florist, I had a need for florist!Asra so here we are lads, Other, Sweet Asra (The Arcana), You are fucking broke, portia and you are roomies :)
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-12-21
Updated: 2020-12-21
Packaged: 2021-03-10 21:02:20
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,154
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28223595
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ferne/pseuds/ferne
Summary: Your feet go flying out from under you as you slip on the wet tile floor. Desperately, you try to catch yourself on a nearby table, but only manage to vainly grasp at the table cloth, sending several potted plants toppling down with you.The air is knocked from your lungs as you smack into the ground. There’s soil and dashed plants all around you, scattered over the floor. Dazed, you blink and try to right yourself, only to fall again when pain shoots up your wrist.“Hey, are you alright?” A panicked voice calls.***A florist!AU meet-cute between Asra and MC, in which Asra runs a flower shop called Alnazar Blooms and MC is a bit of a klutz...romance ensues
Relationships: Apprentice/Asra (The Arcana), Asra (The Arcana)/Reader, Asra (The Arcana)/You
Comments: 5
Kudos: 47





	snowflakes & gardenias (sorrry for wrecking your shit)

You’ve walked past the flower shop every day for the last two months since you moved to the city, but you’ve yet to go in—partially because you don’t know anything about flowers and partially because you’re broke as hell and don’t need to be tempted to spend your already measly paycheck on something other than saving for your own place. 

When the holidays roll around; however, you finally get an excuse to stop into _Alnazar_ _Blooms_ —you receive a five-dollar gift card in your office’s holiday swap. 

It isn’t much, but you figure it’ll be enough to get a small gift for Portia.

(You’ve been crashing on your friend, Portia’s, extremely uncomfortable couch ever since moving to Vesuvia because she’s a saint, but it can’t stay that way forever).

Which is how you find yourself here, standing outside on the snowy street, in front of the chipped sign with the shop’s name. Since winter arrived in full force, all the shop’s plants had been moved indoors, but even through the frosted windows, you can see the colorful flowers within.

Honestly, you have no idea why you’re nervous, but you’ve had a headache brewing all day and it’s making you needlessly on edge, which might be why you’re lingering on the stoop instead of just going inside.

“Pull yourself together and let’s go buy a fucking succulent,” you mutter to yourself, pushing open the door.

A burst of warm air greets you, along with the smell of soil and greenery. It’s smaller than you’d thought, but overflowing with life. Off the top of your head, you see at least a dozen varieties of flowering plants alone—hyacinths, gardenias, peonies, roses, daffodils, poinsettias, and even more kinds that you don’t recognize.

Smiling, you push the door open further and a bell chimes cheerily overhead. Feeling more confident, you stride forward, walking far too quickly to realize your mistake.

Your feet go flying out from under you as you slip on the wet tile floor. Desperately, you try to catch yourself on a nearby table, but only manage to vainly grasp at the table cloth, sending several potted plants toppling down with you.

The air is knocked from your lungs as you smack into the ground. There’s soil and dashed plants all around you, scattered over the floor. Dazed, you blink and try to right yourself, only to fall again when pain shoots up your wrist. 

“Hey, are you alright?” A panicked voice calls.

You hadn’t noticed anyone else in the shop, but now there’s someone crouched beside you, carefully helping you to your feel.

He must be an employee of the shop because he’s wearing a dark green apron over a brightly colored knit sweater and brown corduroy pants, a pair of dirt-stained gardener’s gloves shoved in the pocket. He lets go of your arm and you cradle your wrist against yourself, trying to keep from moving it. 

For a long moment you both stand there in silence, blinking at one another (he’s got lovely eyes, almost...lavender? Maybe violet? Your heads still spinning and you can’t figure out the color). 

This isn’t the time to be waxing poetic about a florist’s eyes, you realize belatedly because said-florist is probably very angry considering the half-dozen shattered plant pots around you.

“Did you hurt your arm?” he asks at the same time that you blurt out “I’ll pay for these I swear!”

His mouth falls open in shock for a split second before he laughs softly.

“Sorry, your expression, um.” He holds out a hand for you to shake. “I’m Asra. Please, let me get you something for your arm.” 

You introduce yourself, shaking his hand with your uninjured one.

“Your flowers though....”

He sighs and nods at the damage surrounding you both. “They...are not in the best shape. But accidents can’t be helped. Unless you intentionally slipped, got hurt, and smashed them?” He raises an eyebrow, giving you an appraising look.

“Er, no, of course not!”

“Exactly. So, your arm then, I’ve got a first aid kit in the back, if you’d like help?” 

He seems genuinely concerned and, well, your wrist does hurt. "Okay, sure.”

“Of course.” He holds out a hand and helps you step over the smashed greenery, before leading you to the back of the shop.

The two of you pass through a hanging curtain made of shimmery, iridescent material behind the register and into the employee section of the store.

“Feel free to sit down, this will just take me a minute to find....” he says, gesturing to a chair beside a worktable against the wall.

The area is smaller than the shop, walls lined with supplies—baskets, ribbons, materials for bouquets, and various bits and bobs. There’s a sense of organized chaos within the space. Nothing is neat, but everything has been placed with intention, and no doubt, Asra and whoever else works here understands the layout well. 

It has a...homey feeling to it almost. Cozy.

You sit down in the chair to wait, tentatively resting your injured hand on the tabletop.

“Ah-ha!” Asra says, standing on his tip-toes and pulling a red metal case from a high shelf beside a pair of shears. “Knew this had to be somewhere.” 

He sets the case down on the table beside you and opens it, rummaging around for a moment before pulling out a roll of bandages.

“May I see your arm?”

You hold it out to him and he takes it carefully in his hands. His fingers are nimble and warm as he presses against the bones in your wrist, feeling for a break.

“Can you move your fingers?”

You nod and wiggle them. “It hurts a little when I twist it...and hurts a lot when I put pressure on it.”

“Well, that’s good, er—” He pauses, his face flushing slightly. “Not good, per se, but better than it being broken. I’ll just wrap it up to help stabilize it.”

He pulls a bandage from the kit and wraps it around your arm deftly. As he works his brows knit in concentration, lips pursing. With his head bowed so close to you, you’re struck by just how snow-like his hair is. Distractedly, you wonder if you’d even be able to tell if snowflakes landed on it.

“Do you own this shop?” You ask, hoping he doesn’t notice the way your face is burning (you shouldn’t be held responsible—he’s got no right to be this kind considering the damage you’ve done to what’s probably his shop).

“Yes, I suppose.” He pulls a roll of medical tape from the kit. “My parents owned it originally and they’ve passed it to me so that they can travel.”

“It’s lovely.”

He flashes you a bright smile. “Thank you, I’m glad to hear that. Is this your first time here? I don’t remember seeing you before.”

“Ah, yeah, I was given a gift card...though I doubt I’m supposed to redeem it on smashed plants,” You sigh. 

“No, I doubt that,” he laughs softly.

He glances down at your hands and jolts slightly, pulling his fingers away from yours. “I think that should be secure now.” 

Tentatively, you flex your wrist. The pressure of the bandage makes it feel less painful, more of a dull ache than a stabbing sensation. “Thanks, this is a lot better.”

He beams. “Excellent.”

Silence stretches between you both. The streetlights click on outside and orange light slants through a high window, lighting up Asra’s eyelashes.

Just as he opens his mouth to say something, the bell in the front of the shop rings. He lurches to his feet.

"What do I owe you for the damage?” You ask, reaching for your wallet.

He frowns. “I’ll need to think about that and asses, could you just wait here for a moment while I deal with that customer?”

“Um, sure?” You’re done work for the day and really, all that’s waiting for you back at Portia’s is a suitcase full of laundry you need to haul to the laundromat.

“Great!” He hurries through the curtain again and you distantly catch the sounds of him discussing roses with whoever has entered the store.

Leaning your elbow on the table, you sigh to yourself. Honestly, there are far worse places to be on a Thursday evening. Through the small window to your right, you catch sight of snowflakes drifting down. 

You’re pondering what you should make for dinner (you always do the cooking since Portia hates it and it’s the least you can do) when something smooth and cool brushes against your bandaged arm.

You jerk, eyes opening to see a lavender-scaled snake peering at you, head cocked to the side. She flickers her tongue and rubs her head against your arm as though acknowledging its injury,

“Hello,” you say softly. “Are you employed here too?” The snake must be Asra’s, there’s no way that she’s anything other than a pet.

Another amused flicker.

“You’re lucky I’m not my roommate, she’s not a fan of snakes,” you say absentmindedly, watching as the snake winds her way around the medical kit curiously. 

She bobs around happily, nudging at the tweezers and nail clippers.

A chuckle breaks through the quiet reverie. “I see you’ve met Faust.” 

“Faust?” You peer over your shoulder to see Asra, watching you with a pleased grin.

“Yep.” He walks to the edge of the table and holds out an arm. Faust happily winds her way onto his shoulders. “Seems like you were getting along well, she must like you.”

Something about the way he says it makes you feel as though he has more insight into her opinions than he’s letting on.

“So, about the...plants,” he says, serious expression returning. 

You stand and try not to wince as you think about how much it’s going to cost. There was at least a half-dozen smashed potted flowers, that’s certainly going to put a dent in your paycheck. “What do I owe you?”

“You broke six plants—a couple of ferns and four gardenias. The ferns were on sale for ten and the gardenias for fifteen, so all-in-all, it’s about...eighty dollars.”

“Thank goodness for my gift card,” you try and joke, though it comes out strained.

Asra smiles, almost...slyly. “ I was thinking that maybe you would be interested in working off the cost. I could use a little help with the holiday rush and we pay fifteen bucks an hour.” He flushes rosy and looks away. “Of course, if you’d rather not I understand, you’re probably a pretty busy pe—”

“Yes!” You blurt, cutting him off. “Absolutely.” 

How could he even think that you’d refuse? Saving eighty bucks and having an excuse to hang around the shop that you’d been drooling over? It sounds a little too good to be true honestly. Also...it doesn’t hurt that Asra seems pretty sweet...and certainly easy on the eyes.

“Excellent!” He pulls a phone from his pocket and holds it out to you. “Put your number in and I’ll text you.”

You take it and tap out your information before passing it back to him. Your hands brush against one another, the glitter polish on his fingernails catching the light. 

“I’ve still got a bit before closing, but we can hammer out the details later. You should get your arm checked out by an actual doctor.” The bell rings again and Asra sighs and nods at the door. “And I should probably get that.”

You glance at your watch, it’s later than you thought. Portia should be back and will likely be wondering where you are. “Alright, well, I’ll keep an eye out for a text.”

He holds open the curtain door for you. “Glad to hear it. Talk to you soon!” 

As soon as you're both through the door, the customer zooms over to Asra, a potted cactus in hand. He shoots you a quick grin before turning away. You linger for a moment, enjoying the soft ambiance of the shop, before stepping back out into the snowy evening. 

Your walk back to Portia’s is far more pleasant than it usually is, your spirits high. Even though you already have a job, the excuse to return to the flower shop is an exciting one. Sure, will you have zero free time now? Probably. But is it worth it...well, you can’t help but feel that it is. That maybe this is the beginning of something good. 

As you finally reach your block, your phone chirps in your pocket. You pull it out, brushing away the snowflakes sticking to your screen. 

It’s a text from an unknown number: 

_Hey!! This is Asra from Alnazar Blooms :) Nice meeting u today!_

Face warm, you read over the text twice and try to ignore a soft fluttering feeling in your chest. 

Correction—this might be the beginning of something _magical_.

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you for reading! I hope you enjoyed my first foray into the Arcana fanfic. Feel free to message me on tumblr @etherealasra :)


End file.
